


In every myth...

by dragons_SRSunn



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Stories of Ancient SkyClan and the rats, Turns out they were true..., Twig Senior had no idea what he was getting into, Who I decided is also named Twig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_SRSunn/pseuds/dragons_SRSunn
Summary: "I never knew my father - another rogue, I suppose. I had a littermate called Twig."-Skywatcher to Firestar, Firestar's QuestWhat really happened to Skywatcher's father?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	In every myth...

**Author's Note:**

> This was really written by a friend who was too shy to get her own account.

Twig crept quietly through the forest, sniffing. He didn't scent any other cat, which was good. If Lowbranch caught him, he would have a lot of explaining to do.

He was going to the rat nest. Twig hadn't been born by the gorge, but he'd been here long enough to know that all the cats in the area loathed rats, avoided the rat nest like the plague, and wouldn't eat one if it was the only prey in the forest. Lowbranch had told him stories, stories of a group of noble cats called a _Clan_ who had been destroyed by swarms of rats, rats that could think and speak and plan-plan the destruction of cats.

Personally, Twig thought the stories were exaggerated. There _was_ a big rat nest in the area-he was already able to smell it-but there was no way rats were able to organize and cold-bloodedly systematically attack and kill cats. It would have just been instinct, like always. Probably the leaders of the Clan had been bitten by rats and died, and the rest of the Clan had panicked and fled, spreading stories that had eventually morphed into these fantastic rumors, which was why, to this day, no cat in the gorge area would touch a rat.

Twig hadn't been born in the gorge. He was what some cats called a "loner," wandering around, never staying in one place for more than a moon or two. He had liked it that way. But then he had come to the gorge, and met Lowbranch.

It wasn't good for cats to be afraid of things, he thought. Sooner or later, you had to face your fears. What if it was the middle of leaf-bare and the only prey they would be able to find was a rat? Not that rats were very good prey, but they were definitely better than nothing.

Besides, Lowbranch was expecting their kits. If she didn't face her fear now, before they were born, she wouldn't have a chance to for moons, because there was no way he was bringing a possibly infectious rat to a nest of kits. He had his limits.

When Twig was younger, he had been afraid of heights. But he had overcome it. His mother had told him stories of cats who loved climbing up trees and cliffs and onto the roofs of Twoleg nests, and his father had one day gently coerced him to climb to the roof of the Twoleg nest they were in. Once he was up there, he had been awed at the view, and he was no longer afraid of heights. Unless he got too close to the edge, of course. Than he felt a bit dizzy, but who didn't?

Besides Lowbranch, that was. Lowbranch practically lived in trees. 

He would do a similar thing here. He would find a rat, and kill it, and bring it to Lowbranch to show her that yes, it was a rat with a dangerous bite, but it was much smaller than a cat. It could be killed. It was _prey_. It was nothing to be afraid of.

Lowbranch would have freaked out if she had known where he was going, so he had snuck away from their den while she was still asleep, waded into a stream for a bit to hide his scent, and headed toward the rat nest.

Twig reached the outskirts of the broken-down Twoleg barn, where the rat nest was. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Didn't the Twolegs know that this was a breeding ground for rats? Why didn't they do something about it?

He took a deep breath and glanced around nervously. He thought of Lowbranch. Then he slipped between the silver wire.

He spotted a rat almost immediately-a little brown rat facing away from him, nibbling on something. He crept closer to it silently, unsheathed his claws, and pounced.

 _See, Lowbranch?_ he thought, staring at the dead rat between his paws. _It's just a rat. It's nothing to be afraid of._

Just as he thought that perhaps that had been too easy, he heard a rustling noise and looked up.

He almost choked.

"By the stars," he whispered, borrowing an expression of Lowbranch's.

He was surrounded by rats, dozens, hundreds, of rats, their brown fur rippling, their tails twisting, their claws and ears twitching. It was dizzying. He literally could not see the ground beneath them.

He realized he wasn't breathing and forced himself to inhale.

 _The stories were true,_ he realized. _They were all true..._

He looked around for any possible escape route, but there was none. The rats were cutting him off from the fence, from that tree several fox-lengths away, from anything that could save him.

Twig brandished the dead rat like a weapon. "Stay back," he cried, grateful that his voice shook only a little bit. "I've already killed one of you, and I will kill more!" Who was he fooling? They outnumbered him at least two hundred to one. "I am a warrior!"

 _Warrior_ was the term Lowbranch used for a fully-grown cat who could hunt and fight. He wasn't sure what the difference was, but it sounded fierce.

A guttural noise came from the rats. Twig realized it was laughter.

"Warrior?" a twisted, harsh voice said, emanating from the center of the rat swarm. "You are no warrior. We kill warriors before, and we kill you now again too."

Twig felt like he was going to throw up. He dug his claws into the earth. So that part of Lowbranch's stories had been true too...How were talking rats even possible?

The rats crept closer, rippling. They began to speak the same phrase over and over again, or perhaps the words were just echoing in Twig's mind. "We kill you again. We kill you again. We kill you again."

Twig took a deep breath and faced them, baring his teeth. If he had to die, he would die like the warriors Lowbranch always spoke of with stars in her eyes, fighting for his mate, fighting for his unborn kits.

* * *

Lowbranch never found out what had happened to her mate. A moon later she gave birth to two tom-kits. She named one Twig, for his father, whose fate she would not know until she joined the stars.

She named the other one Sky, in memory of the lost Clan.


End file.
